


A New Arrival

by SmartassUndertheMountain



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lovestruck Thorin, Reader-Insert, Thorin is about to be a dad, Worried Thorin, child birth, sweet words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmartassUndertheMountain/pseuds/SmartassUndertheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Big News Under the Mountain.</p><p>You've gone into labor and the mid wife has refused to let Thorin into the room. He waits anxiously outside your room. What's happening in there?</p><p>Khuzdul translations thanks to: http://moria.ovh.org/biblioteka/khuzdul.txt</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsleanneyall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsleanneyall/gifts), [LoverofAllThingsExplicit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoverofAllThingsExplicit/gifts).



            Thorin paced outside your room. The midwife had insisted that you move to a separate for the last few weeks of your pregnancy. Thorin missed having you next to him, so that he could whisper to you and your unborn child as you fell asleep.

            He could hear grunts. “PUSH!” the midwife yelled and immediately he heard you grunting and gasping. He had tried to go in there when he had been told that you were in labor, but the midwife had practically shoved him out the door.

            “Thorin!”

            The dwarf king’s ear perked up.

            “THORIN!”

            He shoved open the doors and rushed to your side. One of your ladies-in-waiting closed it behind him to keep anyone who walked from seeing you. He was by your side in an instant. 

            “Y/N, I’m here. What’s wrong, Love?” He took your hand in his. and smoothed hair from your sweaty forehead.

            “My King, you cannot be here,” the midwife sounded authoritative, but Thorin and you both glared daggers at her.

            “I will not leave my wife. She is giving birth to our child. I _will_ be here for her. Is that understood?”

            “Yes, My King,” the midwife sounded displeased, but continued to work.

            “On my count. One, two, push!”

            You pushed, and grunted. You squeezed Thorin’s hand. It hurt so much. “Thorin, I can’t do this. I’ll just carry this child the rest of my life. It doesn’t want to come out,” you panted. You were exhausted. Labor had already lasted more hours than you could remember.

            “You can do this. You are strong, and amazing. You are my queen. You can do this,” Thorin dabbed some sweat away from your brow. “Men lananubukhs menu, Y/N.” (I love you.)

            "Men lananubukhs menu, Thorin.”

            “Push!”

            You pushed, with all your might. Thorin’s deep voice encouraged you. “Come on, Love. You can do this.”

            “Rrrrrrrr-ahh!” You screamed.

            The room was filled with the noise of crying. Thorin kissed your hand, the one that had nearly squeezed his off. "Menu sigim bundul,” he whispered. (You are greater than words.)

            “The baby?” You asked, voice weak from screaming.

            “A healthy girl, My Lady,” the midwife smiled. She handed you the tiny bundle. Your breath was taken away at the sight of her. Your child was still covered in slime, but her face had been wiped clean. Your arms held her close to your breast. You felt your heart swell. Nothing would ever be more important than the sweet child in your arms. She had Thorin's dark hair in a little tuft on her head, messy and sticking up everywhere. Her eyes were closed, but you knew, in a mother's intuition sort of way, that she would look like her father. Thorin leaned in close to get a better look. You stole a quick glance at him, eyes leaving your child for less than a second. His blues eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, but a smile was spreading from ear to ear. You looked back to your daughter and began to whisper to her.

            “Hush, my child. No need to cry. Your _Khagam_ and _Khagan_ are here. And we love you more than anything,” you smiled as you spoke to her. Thorin’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other went below your child. (Father and Mother.)

            “Here,” you began shifting so that he could sit next to you, much to his protest. “Sit, and hold her.”

            “Y/N, she’s so tiny… I don’t think …” The look in his eyes begged to hold her, but his voice was hesitant, worried.

            “You aren’t going to break her. Now sit down,” you commanded and he obeyed. “Hold out your arms, there. Now support her head, just like that,” you coached as you carefully laid her in his arms.

            You smiled at the scene in front of you. Thorin was staring down at your daughter in wonder. She seemed to curl in to him. “My child. My daughter. I will never let anything harm you,” he whispered. His usually gruff voice was gentle.

            “What shall we name her?” You asked.

            “I don’t know. How about after your mother?”

            “Edithena? No way. She never went by that name. Hated it.”

            “Okay, anyone you do want to name her after?”

            “I want her to have her own name, so that she never feels as though she has to ‘live up’ to anyone,” you said. Family names were important in dwarves culture, but you had never subscribed to that part of it. Independence was too important, in your opinion, to worry about family names.

            “Smilla?”

            You smiled and looked down at your child. Her little mouth was turned up in what could only be considered a smile.

            “Smilla,” you said, laying a hand on her head gently. “My Little Smile.”

            “I love you, both,” Thorin kissed you on the lips softly before pressing the gentlest of kisses on Smilla’s forehead.

            “And we love you,” you whispered, relaxing back into your pillows. As much as you wanted to watch your husband and your daughter, exhaustion was winning out. The midwife was coming over to take Smilla so she could be cleaned properly, now that you’d had a few minutes with her. Your eyes were closed, but you heard Thorin whisper to your daughter once more before falling asleep.

            "Menu tessu, Smilla.” (You are everything.)

            You smiled. Surely, this was the greatest gift that the Valinor could have given you.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything. Sorry, this took longer than I had planned, and finding a name that sounds dwarvish isn't very easy. Smilla is Scandinavian and means 'Smile,' which I thought was pretty. I found the name on babynames.com. I hope this is what y'all were wanting! Comments/Feedback are always appreciated. Thank you to everyone who reads my work.
> 
> Khuzdul translations thanks to: http://moria.ovh.org/biblioteka/khuzdul.txt


End file.
